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THE WICKLOW MOUNTAINS; OR, THE LAD OF THE HILLS, A COMIC OPERA; IN TWO ACTS.

WRITTEN BY O'KEEFFE.

DUBLIN: PRINTED BY JOHN WHITWORTH, No. 14, EXCHANGE-STREET.

1797.

Perſons of the Drama.

[][]
MEN.
  • Franklin, Mr King.
  • Donnybrook, Mr. Lee.
  • Sullivan, Mr. Callan.
  • Felix. Mr. Dunn.
  • Billy O'Rourke, Mr. Stewart.
  • Redmond O'Hanlon, Mr. Richardſon.
WOMEN.
  • Helen, Mrs. Chapman.
  • Roſa, Mrs. Mahon.

Servants, &c. &c.

THE WICKLOW MOUNTAINS; OR, THE LAD OF THE HILLS.

[]

ACT I.

SCENE I.—A Road.

Enter FRANKLIN and SERVANT.
Frank.

So, once again have I got up among the Mountains of Wicklow. Ay, yonder is the very cabin where I ſupped my bread and milk, a little chubby-cheek'd younker. Oh! but I'm every hour to expect Mr. Donnybrook, and his charming daughter from Dublin. William, remember you're not to drop my name to a ſoul here.

Serv.

Never fear, Sir.

Frank.

Well, return to the public-houſe where we ſtopp'd, open the Portmanteau, and lay out my famous dreſs!

Serv.

Dreſs! Oh! yes, yes, Sir.

exit.
Frank.

This delightful country! now mine, thanks to the will of my crabbed Uncle. In the diſguiſe of the character I aſſum'd ſo ſucceſsfully at the maſquerade, I'll ſee what they are all about here. I can make trial of Sullivan the poſt-maſter's honeſty, have a ſharp eye too on the old companion of my childhood, Felix; of whom I have heard ſuch dreadful ſtories. Lucky my finding in Dublin [6]the good old woman that nurs'd us both. My opulent family left her (and this young man, ſo long her only ſupport) to indigence. This letter that ſhe gave me for him, might diſcover his reſources; but I've promis'd, and he ſhall have it. When metamorphos'd, I may alſo ſpeak to my lovely Helen, without her knowing who I am; and if I find her not as amiable as ſhe is beautiful, then farewell love! now for my diſguiſe, inſtead of the young 'ſquire and lord of the manor, I'm an old, merry, jolly, lying, wicked, mumpping, travelling merchant.

(Mimicks)

‘Sleeve-buttons, ſhirt-buttons, sciſſars, threads, tapes and needles, ſpectacles for all ages! do extend your charity to the poor old man!’— very well! bravo! bravo!

exit.

SCENE II.—The Mountains.

ROSA, ſitting at the door of her cabin, knitting.
AIR,
ROSA.
Here at her cabin door is Roſa ſitting,
But oh! her thoughts in Dublin are with thee,
Move ſilly fingers, I muſt mind my knitting,
For ah! my Felix will not think of me;
That does he, ſays my heart in double beating,
Now blythe from hill to hill he bounds along,
How ſweet is abſence that can bring ſuch meeting,
Beat, beat, my boſom, to my cheerful ſong;
Fly, fly, refreſhing gales! ah! gently by me,
In paſſing, ſoftly whiſper who is come;
No news of him I love, oh! ne'er come nigh me,
Sing, ſing, ye pretty birds, his welcome home.
Enter BILLY O'ROURKE, eating Fruit.
Billy.

Will you eat ſome Fraughans, Roſa, child?

Roſa.

Billy, you have been rambling over the mountains, when you ſhould be teaching the children at Mr. Sullivan's ſchool, you're a pretty uſher.

Billy.
[7]

And you ſinging here, like a lazy ſparrow, when you ſhould mind your buſineſs.

Roſa.

Well, now Billy, don't ſay I waſte my time,—ſee what I've been doing,

(takes a ſhirt from baſket)

there!

Billy.

My new ſhirt finiſhed! why you've put a ruffle on it! two ruffles!

(joyful)

then, bleſſings on you, do you want to make me a man in a ruffled ſhirt? a ruffle on my right hand, and a ruffle on my wrong—no, my left hand, and a great long ruffle down my neck!—next Sunday I ſhall ſtrut into Chapel, like a white gilled Turkey-cock.—No man that ever fold Goats milk on the Mountains of Wicklow, was—you talk of Felix! pſha! I am—

ſnaps his fingers and ſtruts.
AIR, BILLY.
Some run after the Buck and Doe;
Some a Fox will ſet galloping,
Some will chaſe a Hare puſſey-ſo,
Chevy their Horſes ſides walloping;
Gentlemen guzzle up Claret wine,
Ale in the throat will run ripple down,
Ladies tea-talk like a Parrot fine,
O! my Goats milk is the tipple down.
Step out, beſt leg, and cry, come, body,
When I look ſmart, give me joy for it,
Genteels ſhall find that I'm ſomebody,
Billy O'Rourke is the boy for it.—Whoop.
My Goat he's fond of ſkipping high,
Dance he ſhall at the Hay-market,
My Kid ſings ſo top-tipping—why
Not ma! ma! ſweetly as they Lark it;
Ditches, a good nag brings us over,
Dogs through all troubles will follow man,
If long beards make a philoſopher,
Then is my Goat a wife Solomon.
Step out, beſt leg, &c.
[8] Ruffles ſhall over my knuckles dab,
Blue ſilk waiſtcoat I'll dreſs in too,
Sullivan's white powdered wig I'll nab,
And take of compliment leſſons, two;
Step out, beſt leg, and cry, come, body,
When I look ſmart, give me joy for it,
Genteels ſhall find that I'm ſomebody,
Billy O'Rourke is the boy for it.—Whoop.
Step out, beſt leg, &c.
Enter FRANKLIN, in his diſguiſe.
Frank.

Ha! I'm glad to ſee the boys and girls ſo ſweet to one another. And my honey, were you ſinging a ſong for her? the very birds in the air, ſet you that gay example—look among the hens and chickens, ſee that tight, ſmart cockerel, how he chaunts and crows round the little pullets.

in a feigned voice.
Billy.

What do you chatter to me about cocks and hens, you beggarly looking thief? who are you with the devil to you?

Roſa.

Oh ſhame! Billy, you're always abuſing every body.

Frank.

Let him alone, honey, the poor muſt bear and forbear. I'll tell you who I was, for I have had my day.

Billy.

So have I.

Frank.

Ay, every Dog has his day.

Billy.

What do you ſell? ſpeak this inſtant.

ſhakes him.
Frank.

Oh! why do you ſhake one about, as if I was a bag of cockles?

Roſa.

You've got ſuch a croſs way, Billy, by crowing over the little boys in Mr. Sullivan's ſchool. But you're not an uſher here.

Billy.
(Ironically)

Oh! miſs ſweet-lips,—pretty roſe-bud!

(bows)

what do you ſell if you pleaſe, Sir?

bows.
Frank.
[9]

Oh Sir!

(bows ironically)

decent ſleevebuttons, and handſome ſpectacles for all ages,— comely pins and needles, and well behaved threads and tapes. When I can't ſell, I beg—So either in charity or fair dealing, I've always the beſt of the bargain.

Billy.

Bargain! I'm your cuſtomer. I'll buy a pair of ſleeve buttons for my new ruffled ſhirt,

(takes it)

Oh! how nice you've marked it! as if you'd pick'd out the letters from your very ſampler, and ſtuck them on, now for the W.O.R. eh! what! F—o—fof!

Roſa.

To be ſure; it's for Felix.

Billy.

Ruffling ſhirts for Felix! that's pretty behaviour.

walks in a paſſion.
Roſa.

Don't be angry Billy. Beſides his kindneſs to me, Felix is good natur'd to every body. He is generous to all that's in want or ſickneſs.

Frank.

My companion ſuch an excellent character! this is not what I've been led to believe.

aſide.
Roſa.

Then Billy, Felix is ſo handſome, and here he is.

Billy.

Here he is, and he is not ſo handſome.

Frank.

Ah! I remember the boyiſh features, but exceeding well grown up.

aſide,
Enter FELIX.
Billy.

You're not as handſome as me! Felix.

ſtruts up to him.
Roſa.

Felix! why, I believe you've been to Dublin?

Felix.

I have my ſweet Roſa, and have brought you a ſilver thimble; and here, Billy, is a red ſilk handkerchief for Sunday.

Roſa

I thank you Felix, but I can't accept it.

Billy.

Thank ye, Felix, but I can't accept it,

(ties it in a great bow round his neck)

I thank ye, Felix, but indeed I cannot accept it!

(ludicrouſly)

there, [10]that's Felix's way, he's always making preſents to the folks, a buſy cur! now I never make preſents to any body.

Roſa.

Do not be offended, but I muſt not take any thing from you, till I firſt know how you get the money to buy it?

Billy.

Felix, I don't want to affront you, but I believe you're a robber!

Frank.

How! oh! this may be the malice of ruſtic jealouſy;

(aſide)

but, young gentleman, your generoſity hurts the poor man that wants to live by turning the penny.

Felix.

Oh! I'll not do miſchief either. What have you got?

looks.
Billy.

He's got ſine ſpectacles. I wiſh I had a pair to make a preſent to my maſter, Mr. Sullivan, it would ſave me many lags by the ear. Felix, dam'me, I'll buy a pair, if you'll pay for them?

Felix.

Ha, ha, ha! with all my heart. Here then.

gives 'em to Billy, and money to Franklin.
Roſa.

Felix you've given him two half crowns. Why, you might have bought 'em for ſixpence. Ah! light come, light go.

Billy.

Ay, what's got over the devil's back, is—

Frank

Oh fie! don't blame the lad, for helping honeſt induſtry.

Roſa.

Certainly it's very good in him ſo far; but his having ſo much money is the talk of every ſoul in Croghan.

Billy

You pulled out, the laſt time you came from Dublin, four guineas, two half guineas, ſix crown pieces, three bright farthings, and a bundle of ſixpences. You go from home here without a penny in your pocket—you ſtand behind a windmill on Red-croſs-hill, and you rob the gentlemen and ladies, as they paſs in their coaches. Look now, there's a coach coming over the common yonder, ſee how Felix watches it, juſt as a cat would a robbin.

Frank.
[11]

Then, but for us, he'd be at his trade.

apart.
Billy.

He's groping for his piſtol.

noiſe and ſhrieks without.
Felix.

Thoſe horſes are running with the coach down the hill.

exit.
Billy.

There's a lady within—ſhe's in a bleſſed way?

Frank.

Heavens! it's my Helen and her father.

exit.
Roſa.

Why don't you go and aſſiſt in ſtopping the horſes, Billy?

Billy.

Lord, if ever I ſaw ſuch ſpirited nags! there they kick and jump. The coach will have an immenſe tumble down the quarry. Talk of horſes and carriages. Nothing like a man's own handſome leg.

walks ridiculouſly.
Roſa.

There! Felix has caught hold of the bridle of the firſt horſe.

Billy.

See how he rears, and pulls him up in the air! hoo!

(ſhouts)

If I wasn't ſure Mr. Sullivan didn't want me to open ſchool, I'd join in the ſun. But let old Sullivan go to the devil, I will divert myſelf.

Enter SULLIVAN.
Sull.

Oh, ho! you're here.

takes him by the ear and leads hint off.
Roſa.

The gentlefolks are ſafe; thanks to my brave Felix.

Re-enter FELIX.

Oh, my Felix! how good you are!

Felix.

It's very wrong the ladies not getting out, and walking down that hill.

Roſa.

They're not hurt, I hope.

Felix.
[12]

Oh! no, no harm, but what the coach maker can repair. But my dear Roſa, I'm exceedingly hurt by your ſuſpicions.

Roſa.

Well, now nobody is bye, do tell me how you get your money?

Felix.

The time will come, and very ſoon, when you ſhall know how I have a guinea, for other people's ſhilling; but while I put it to a good purpoſe don't think ill of me.—I think I may truſt Roſa

(aſide)

Come my love, look pleaſant—I'll call upon you to-night, and then, perhaps I may tell you.

Roſa.

I ſhall expect you to ſupper. But, dear Felix, let me know no more than you think proper.

Duet—FELIX, ROSA.
Both.
Ah! deareſt love, will you ever love me?
Treaſur'd in vi'lets are ſweets for the bee;
Is the morning ſun-beam cheering, ah?
Is the Lark's firſt note worth hearing, ah?
Is the dew-drop clear?
Call'd the ſnow-drop's tear?
Setting ſun do ploughmen joy to ſee;
Felix.

Does Roſa then doat on her own gramachree?

Roſa.

Does Felix then doat on his own gramachree?

Felix.
My deareſt,
My deareſt;
Roſa.

Say oh! will you love me?

Felix.
Do ſweet flowers open to the morning ray?
You are my ſweet flower;
Roſa.

You are the dawn above me,

Felix.

Adieu my deareſt Roſa!

Roſa.

Adieu my deareſt Felix!

Both.

Oh! may our hours in love ſerenely glide away.

exeunt ſeparately.

SCENE III.—Sullivan's Houſe.

[13]
Enter SULLIVAN.
Sull.

And you muſt be courting Roſa, and be damn'd to you?

Billy.

Yes, I muſt—and the horſes were ſo ruſty.

Sull.

I thought Billy, I was poſt-maſter in this here town of Arklow, and ſchool-maſter, and that my ſchool was the chapel, and I was owner of three herring-boats.

Billy.

Well, and a'n't you?

Sull.

Then as you are my uſher, never ſtand before me with a hat upon your cangrona,

(ſnatches off his hat, Billy picks it up and wipes it on Sullivan's coat)

and never ſpeak to me without ſaying, Sir!

Billy.

Lord, I cou'dn't remember that. It would hurt my intellects.

Sull.

What you ſpalpeen cur! mind you ſet maſter Fogerty a copy.

Billy.

For your cruſtineſs, Felix's ſpectacles never rides upon your bandy noſe.

aſide.
Sull.

What, are you talking about my noſe?

Billy.

I was only ſaying I wanted a quill for a new pen.

Sull.

You want a quill! and pray what do you think the old gander is marching about the door for? d'ye hear? write Maſter Pat. Mulvany's multiplication table, on his new ſheet of brown paper; and tell Maſter Shamos Meguiggin, that I'll whip him for drawing dogs and foxes on his new ſlate; that is, if his daddy, Mr. Meguiggin. don't ſend me that ſheaf of barley he promis'd me.

ſhouts without.
Billy.

There's the boys making a hullaballoo at the ſchool door.

Sull.

And why don't you go and open it, you whelp?

Billy.
(Takes down laſh, ſlates, books, rules, &c. from a ſhelf)

Oh! if every babe of 'em doesn't give me [14]his morning's bread and butter, how my cat will whiſk her nine tails about their legs!

Sull.

How do you mean, honey?

Billy.

Why, dam'me, ſo.

whips his legs and runs off.
Sull

Oh! you curſed hound! eh! 'Squire Donnybrook!

Enter DONNYBROOK, and two FOOTMEN.
Don.

Come, put down my coat there, I have done with lace for ſome time. Ah! Mr. Sullivan, I preſume. Well, my friend Sir Richard, told you I ſuppoſe, of my coming down, or rather coming up here, and that I'll lodge with you.

Sull.

Oh! Mr. Donnybrook! then it was your coach that was overturned juſt now? well, Sir, you ſhall have a glaſs of Claret, and in our Iriſh way, I won't aſk you whether you will, or no.

Don.

No—I—prefer a little of your Wicklow Ale.

Sull.

And that you ſhall have—here, Billy.

Enter BILLY.
Billy.

May be you want me.

Sull.

And where's your Sir? and where's your bow?

(Billy bows)

arragh boy! don't kick up your leg in that manner. Suppoſe Maſter Me. Fogerty was behind you, what a devil of a kick you'd give him in the ſhin.

Billy.

Sir, will you ſit down?

places a chair.
Don.

Thank ye.

Sull.

Then, how dare you aſk even the Pope, to ſit in my ſchool elbow chair, and be damn'd to you.

Billy.

Oh! very well, pray Sir, ſit on this ſtool.

takes the chair from him.
Don.

What's this?

Sull.

'Squire, don't think me unmannerly, you're welcome to my great chair, if it was made of gold [15]and ivory; but my uſher and my boys, muſt believe I'm the greateſt bird in the buſh.

(apart)

Billy, boy, from your behaviour, I'm ſure the gentleman cou'dn't tell what I am.

AIR, SULLIVAN.
Pray look on me Sir, and then gueſs my vocation,
I'm ſchool-maſter here, and I teach the young boys;
I ſquat in my chair, and ſuch curst botheration,
Enough for to deafen a drum with their noiſe:
This lad you ſee here—you've a hole in your ſtocking!
apart.
Why Sir, he's my uſher—pho Bill, where's your bow?
How neatly be ſtands—with your elbows outcocking!
apart.
What a mannerly child—to kick up like a cow:
Then Sir, he can write,
Your ſoul he'd delight,
With his A, B, C, D,
And his D, E, F, G,
And his fa, lal, lal, de, ral, &c.
My boys bring me corn, when their daddies are reaping,
They cypher ſo famouſly all on their ſlate;
I lock up their books, juſt to teach them book keeping,
Tho' ſhut now his mouth; Sir, that cur's full of prate:
In ſhort of my youths, I'm a noble commander,
Fine horſes I make out of young ragged colts;
On Sunday before 'em, I walk like a gander,
And they all hop after, like gay turkey polts:
Then Sir, they can write,
Your ſoul they'd delight,
With their A, B, C, D,
And their D, E, F, G,
And their ſal, lal, lal, de, ral, &c.
excunt Sullivan and Billy.
Don.
[16]

Why does my daughter ſit in the coach?

Foot.

Sir, miſs Helen's woman was ſo frighten'd at the danger, that ſhe fell quite ill upon it, and my lady obſerving a ſmart looking girl at a cottage-door as we paſſed thro' the village, thought ſhe might hire her a little, and ſo has walked back to have ſome talk with the girl herſelf.

Don.

Well, do you ſee, your lady, my wife; ſent me up to the mountains in ſlate; but now I'll unſtate myſelf for one month at leaſt. There now, my two ſinecure footmen, take yourſelves and my fine gingerbread coach back again to MerrionSquare. I come hither for ſport,—that I'll have in ſhooting grouſe. My daughter, miſs Helen Donnybrook, comes here for health, that ſhe'll quaff up in fine air, and Goats milk; ſo begone back to Dublin, you ſuperfine gaudy raſcals; march, trip, ſkip, hop, bounce!

Foot.

Ah! maſter breaks out now he hasn't my lady to controul him

(aſide)
exit.
Re-enter SULLIVAN, calling off.
Sull.

Come Billy, bring it in. 'Squire, you have ruſticated yourſelf into a country Fox.

Don.

Time and ſeaſon. In town I was gay; I rattled, ſwore, guzzled and gambled; but here I'm rural, ſimple and ſerene.

Enter BILLY, with a mug.
Billy.

Sir, I juſt now handed miſs, your beautiful daughter, out of the coach. I hope I wasn't too bold. What a ſhabby figure I muſt have cut;

(aſide)

pray, Squire, what do you do with your old clothes, that you throw off?

looking at them.
Don.

Why, I give 'em to my man.

Billy.

Your honor's welcome to Arklow;

(drinks)

maſter, here's long life to you.

Sull.

Then the devil fly away with your manners.

Don.

You ſhou'd have firſt taught him a few; come, come, don't be cow'd down, Billy, my man.

Billy.
[17]

Oh! I'm his man; thank ye Sir! theſe old clothes I ſhall be obliged to wear. 'Squire if you let me ſerve miſs with Goats milk, ſhe ſhall have a pale of it under the window every morning, before the crow can ſhake his ears.

Sull.

But, Billy, we ſhould warn Mr. Donnybrook againſt Felix.

Billy.

Right; Sir, never go ſhooting on the hills, without taking a gun with you.

Don.

Why, it's what I generally do.

Sull.

My way.

Don.

Felix is, I ſuppoſe, that travelling pedlar, that came to aſſiſt us, when we broke down.

Billy.

Oh! Sir, no; Felix is a ſaucy boy, that c [...]s my Roſa, but he's very ugly, isn't he maſter?

Sull.

Yes; he's a deformed man. Then Felix is [...].

Billy.

He wou'dn't put one foot before another to oblige a living ſoul.

Sull.

And if he meets you on a common, he wou'dn't mind knocking your head againſt a ſtone wall.

Don.

Then you ſhou'dn't encloſe the commons.

Billy.

And he's ſo unmannerly, that if you'd take off your hat, and ſay "how do you do Mr. Felix?". he'd ſtump by you, like the ſtump of a pigeonh [...]ſe.

Don.

So, on a ſum up, this Felix is a ſaucy, rude, ugly, deformed, uncivil ſtump of a poſt? I'm a magiſtrate,—he ſhan't ſtay here to frighten me, when I'm running over the ſweet, blooming heaths; I'll tranſport him! the infernal raſcal! ecod! you've fired me ſo, that if he comes in my way—

Enter FELIX.

ah! my dear worthy lad!

(ſhakes hands)

I'm very glad to ſee you, I long'd to make ſome acknowledgement and return you my hearty thanks.

Felix.
[18]

Sir, the pleaſure of aſſiſting any that ſtand in need of it, is to me a ſufficient recompenſe.

Sull.

Billy, I'm amaz'd!

Billy.

Sir, I'm aſtoniſh'd!

Sull.

Felix, I charge you before 'Squire Donnybrook, as a common highway footpaddy.

Don.

Then, this is the lad you've been abuſing ſo?

Billy.

Sir, he's a robber.

Don.

He can't, he ſaved my life, my daughter, and my four coach horſes!

Sull.

Sir, he wears the beſt of clothes.

Billy.

And a ruffled ſhirt, ſo he muſt be a rogue.—I wiſh I had ruffles to my ſhirt,—damn him how fine he looks!

aſide.
Sull.

Felix, you either rob, or have ſold yourſelf to the devil for your gold.

Felix.

Neither.

Sull.

Why you do more good in the village, than all of us put together, ſo you muſt be a bad man,— then you're always going to Dublin, and coming back, and what for?

Billy.

And people ſends him letters,—now nobody ſends me letters, tho' I'm an O'Rourke.

Sull.

Well thought on—as I'm poſt-maſter, and all the letters comes thro' my hands, I'll open yours, and find how you get the money.

Felix.

Open my letters! then all is blown indeed. The boy is now on the road with the Arklow mail.

(aſide.)
exit haſtily.
Sull.

There! he cou'dn't ſtand the charge, but has run away with himſelf.

Don.

Then, by the time this Felix does good enough to be canonized for a ſaint, he'll be quite a devil among you all. But am I to have no ſupper here?

Billy.

Suppoſe Sir, you go and ſhoot a little; I'll ſhew you ſuch big round flocks of Grouſe. I wiſh I could get ſome for a preſent to Roſa;

(aſide)

beſides, Sir, I ſhoot a little myſelf; you ſhall ſee how I'll [19]cock one eye, and wink the other. Hey! they're up! whiz!

points and ſhouts.
Sull.

Pray Billy, turn your muzzle another way.

Trio—DON. SULL. BILLY.
Don.
A life of town faſhion is all a mere folly,
Grimace, affectation, nor friendſhip, nor truth,
High up among green hills in altitude jolly,
We rove on the tip toe of pleaſure;
The bees in great cities, for drones buz and cluſter,
Why blaſt in ſmoak'd dungeons, our roſy cheek'd youth;
To freedom and nature, dull mortals, be juſter,
O'er mountains our limits come meaſure.
Sull.
A baſket of Turf, go bring in my brave Billy,
I love a good ſire to comfort my noſe,
A bowl of Colcannon, oghone! is the lilly,
And let a big Turkey be roaſted.
Billy.
I'll bring you of Whiſkey a plentiful mether,
And Sir, I'll remember a pitcher of Booze,
Then round your ſquare table we'll ſit down together,
And all the fine girls ſhall be toaſted.
exeunt.

SCENE IV.—The Mountains, Roſa's Cabin.

Enter FRANKLIN, in his diſguiſe.
Frank.

This claſh of contradictory reports. They allow Felix is their univerſal benefactor, yet all agree that he muſt get his money by improper means. Eh! he's here, running out of town this late hour, is ſuſpicious,—if, as that clown ſaid, his buſineſs ſhould be to collect from travellers—

retires.
Enter FELIX.
Felix.

Yes, here the poſt-boy muſt paſs; if there is a letter for me in the bag, he may for a little caſh, [20]give it me and keep ſecret, ſo prevent Sullivan diſcovering my hidden precious reſource. A pity my nurſe was from home, when I call'd there yeſterday, ſhe'll be diſtreſs'd, and perhaps may write this very poſt, enough, to let any reader know the means, by which I have relieved her.

(ſees

Franklin) Isn't that the facetious pedlar?

Frank.
(Aſide)

He ſees me,

(advances,)

tol, lol, lol,

(ſings)

then Heaven bleſs you my good young man.

Felix.

The ſame to you.

boy's horn without.
Frank.

The poſt-boy—

Felix.

Yes, with the Dublin Letters for Arklow,— I—I—want to ſpeak to him.

Frank.

Sure he won't rob the mail! yet ſo communicative of his villainy!

aſide.
Felix.

I think he has a letter for me, that I would not wiſh ſhould fall into the poſt-maſter's hands.

Frank.

Then it's only a letter for himſelf he wants out of it, I think, I hope he is ſlandered.

(aſide.)

From a girl, eh! ah! ah!

ſlyly.
Felix.

He, ha, ha! no faith, it's from my old nurſe, that lives in Dublin.

Frank.

Indeed!—how fortunate!

aſide.
Felix.

To get that from the boy, would make me the happieſt fellow in the world.

half aſide.
Frank.

If your mind is really good, now for a ſevere trial.

(aſide.)
exit unperceived.
Felix.

Shall I aſk the boy or no? upon conſideration I'd better not, he might refuſe, and I get vex'd, perhaps he'd run into town complaining; then Sullivan would have a handle for his ill will to me. No, if there's a letter, I'll leave it to chance. Eh! I'm before Roſa's Cabin; well thought on, I am to be with her;

(horn)

how ſweet that ſound, this tranquil evening, over the hills; but harſh to the voice of love and Roſa.

[21]
AIR, FELIX.
The horn ſhrill, mellow, loud and clear,
May call to chace a fearful deer,
How poor the hunter's pride;
The trumpet puffs in boaſting ſtrain,
To fight, and o'er the verdant plain,
Muſt flow a crimſon tide.
The poſt-boy's horn, hark! muſic rare!
Now ſkims the lake, now fills the dell,
Or ſink, or float, upon the air,
Or dying pant, or nobly ſwell;
His eager ſports, let death proclaim,
To camp and foreſt round;
The lover hears the voice of fame,
When flutes melodious ſound.
At rural feaſts, the maſter's ſkill,
The pipe can warble make at will,
To join the dulcet voice;
Blind minſtrel ſit in tuneful ſtate,
Thy harp, oh! ſweetly modulate,
You charm and we rejoice.
The poſt-boy's horn, hark! muſic rare!
Now ſkims the lake, now fills the dell,
Or ſink, or float, upon the air,
Or dying pant, or nobly ſwell;
Horn, harp, pipe, trumpet, loud proclaim,
Fight, dance, or ſong around;
The lover hears the voice of fame,
When flutes melodious ſound.
Re-enter FRANKLIN.
Felix.

Ha! my merry, honeſt fellow here again!

Frank.

Young man, the money you generouſly gave me this morning, for my ſpectacles, was four and ſixpence over the price, that buys me a jolly ſtock of merchandize, and makes me happy; you ſaid, the letter you expected, would make you ſo, there it is.

gives it.
Felix.
[22]

S'death! you hav'n't forc'd it from the boy?

Frank.

Aſk no queſtions, you have it, and be happy.

exit ſinging.
Felix.

This is a very dangerous act of kindneſs; why, there's no poſt-mark! ſhe muſt have ſent it in a cover. Then my new venturous friend has torn it off to prevent detection. Plague on't I wiſh he hadn't been ſo buſy. However, ſince I have got it, I may as well ſee, what ſays my good old woman.

Enter BILLY, with birds in a net.
Billy.

Oh! they'll catch the robber, ecod, I've leſt Mr. Donnybrook to grope his way home as he can. Pho! let him lay down on the top of the hill, and roll into the town at the bottom of it, he, he, he! I've got all his birds, he has had the ſport, but I have the game; Roſa ſhall broil all theſe fat Grouſes for her and my ſnapper

(going, ſees Felix)

What, Felix! Arklow and the whole country is up, do you know any thing about it?

Felix.

About what?

Billy.

Why the mail is robb'd.

Felix.

Ha! then he did force it from the boy. Is he in the habit of doing theſe things, or was it the impulſe of the moment, to ſerve me? I obſerv'd his activity in endeavouring to aſſiſt the people, when the coach broke down, ſo I'll think the beſt of him.

(aſide)

But Billy, ſure there's only one letter taken, and for that, I'll ſooner—than have a noiſe—I myſelf will pay—the poſtage—out—of my own pocket,

(confuſed)

and then there's no harm done.

Billy.

You'll pay the poſtage! why, what is it to you? and how came you to know how many letters were taken? no harm done! Mr. Sullivan ſays they're always gibbered upon the ſpot where the fact is committed, hung up in chains, as a warning to the Crows, and the Sheep, and the Sea-gulls.

Felix.

Wretched man! why would he do this?

aſide, and much agitated.
Billy.
[23]

What's the matter with Felix? he was reading a letter juſt now, eh! how! bleſs my head! he ſaid there was but one letter taken; oh, ho! then the ſecret's out,

(whiſtles)

this is how Felix gets his money.

(aſide)

Felix, upon the very ſpot where we now ſtand, what a terrible fine place for a gibbet.

Felix.

I'm faint, and tremble.

aſide.
Billy.

Why your face is as white as a Goat's elbow; here's Mr. Sullivan and the whole poſſe coming to look for the robber. Ah Felix! I wasn't quite out, when I ſaid you hid behind the windmill, to rob the gentlefolks.

Felix.
(Alarnted)

Me! am I ſuſpected of this?

Billy.

Oh! no, you're not ſuſpected,—pretty well known,—I'll go in and tell Roſa, that winds him up with her, ſhe's ſo honeſt.

goes into houſe.
Felix.

The poor fellow wou'dn't have committed this action but for me; the crime is all mine; unleſs I give him up, a ſhameful death muſt be my doom. How to eſcape? Roſa is beloved of all, if the conceals me, they'll not force their way into her cabin. Roſa! Roſa!

Roſa appears at a window.
Roſa.

Who's there?

Felix.

My love, open the door, quick, quick, and you ſave my life,

Roſa.

Felix, as long as I could, my affection for you, repel'd every thought to your prejudice; whilſt all were in full certainty of your diſhoneſty, love whiſpered. "Roſa, only doubt it,"—but this laſt action—Felix I muſt ſpeak to you no more, and if poſſible forget you.

Felix

My life is in your hands, won't you preſerve it? ſave me my dear, my only love.

kneels.
Billy.
(At the window)

get away, we know nothing about you.

Felix.

Then this is the cauſe, treacherous Roſa!

riſes.
Billy.
[24]

Come don't you abuſe the girls, with your impudent robberies.

Felix.

Then life is not worth preſerving.

leans againſt a tree.
Billy.

Here they come to take him; ecod I'll have the reward; my beautiful Felix, if you attempt to run away, I'll ſhoot you flying.

retires.
Enter SULLIVAN and REDMOND O'HANLON.
Red.

When I queſtion'd the boy, he ſaid the fellow was muffl'd, and he cou'dn't ſwear to him.

Sull.

Redmond, I know Felix did this, by his running out of my houſe, when I talk'd about his letter.

Enter DONNYBROOK, gropping.
Don.

Damn it, I'm quite aſtray, how ſhall I get home?

Sull.

Juſtice Donnybrook! Sir, the mail is robb'd!

Don.

Ay, you're a pretty parcel of pickpockets; that curſed fellow pretended to be my guide, led me about and about, then ran away with my birds.

Enter BILLY, haſtily from houſe.
Billy.

Maſter, I ſaw a letter.

Don.

Oh! you poaching villain, where's my game?

collars him.
Billy.

Lord, Sir, none of your game now, we've other fiſh to fry, a'n't we going to law? Maſter, I juſt this moment ſaw Felix reading a letter that he took from the Mail.

Sull.

You ſaw him! then Billy honey, you were the man that was ſeen with him.

Don.

You're an accomplice.

Billy.

Me! I wasn't within ten miles of him.

Red.

I know who it was.

Don.

There, I knew it wasn't Felix, an honeſt e'low, didn't he ſave me? tender hearted fellow! didn't he ſave my daughter? a brave fellow! didn't [25]he in the danger, put Helen's little lap-dog in his coat pocket?

Billy.

Pocketted a dog too; aye, he can afford to pay the tax.

Red.

The begging pedlar was Felix's conſederate.

Felix.
(Advancing)

I had no confederate, the crime was all my own.

Don.

Indeed! is it poſſible I cou'd be ſo deceiv'd in this young man! but what a fooliſh knave to own it.

(aſide)

Now Bob, I think this lad is innocent, becauſe, ſuppoſing I was guilty, I'd be hang'd if I'd confeſs it.

Sull.

Well, as he has conſeſs'd it, he'll be hang'd.

Don.

Felix muſt be lock'd up in the Chapel to night, and to-morrow I'll convey him under a ſtrong guard, to Wicklow jail.

Sull.

Billy, boy, fetch away the childrens copy books, or Felix will be ſtealing the paper, to write petitions to the Lord Lieutenant.

Quartetto—SULL. DON. RED. FELIX.
Sull.
Felix you have robb'd the mail,
Don.
And thus I ſpeak the law's decree;
Sull.
Honey you muſt go to jail,
And hang upon a tree.
Felix.
I ſhall make no reſiſtance,
With hope loſt, is exiſtence.
Roſa at window.
Ah! how cruel to my jewel,
Love. I have uſed thee to ill.
Chorus.
—Felix you have robb'd the mail, &c.
Felix.
Like the glorious ſun is death,
Which we cannot bear to look on;
Come, and yet my lateſt breath,
Shall bleſſings call on Roſa.
Billy.
Strike a light, gay and bright,
Roſa, broil our little grouſy;
Felix ſwing, oh! I'll ſing,
Roſa then ſhall be my ſpouſy.
Roſa.
[26]
When worth thus from the world departs,
Our prayers to Heaven aſcend;
And tears and ſighs from grateful hearts,
Thy fleeting ſoul attend.
Chorus.
—When worth thus from, &c.
Sull.
We'll lock you up in the Chapel all night,
To-morrow to priſon as ſoon as light.
Felix.
Come then away, farewell! in your night ſtories tell;
How fond Felix was betray'd, by a dear lovely maid;
With joy ſhall I hear the knell, of poor Felix paſſing bell;
Bear me then quick along, love hear my dying ſong.
Chorus.
Felix you have robb'd the mail, &c.
END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

[27]

SCENE I,—Inſide of Roſa's Cabin.

Enter ROSA.
AIR.
A Linnet purſu'd, to my window it flew,
It flutter'd and trembl'd, the Hawk was in view;
So plaintively tender, his note ſtill I hear,
Ah! tender indeed, 'twas the voice of my dear:
No pity could move, I the trembler betray,
And thus the vile Hawk, tears my Linnet away.
Where now is my Felix? where ſoon ſhall he be?
And what muſt his thoughts be, if thinking of me?
Enter HELEN.
Helen.

Ha! good morning to you my dear girl; Roſa, I pretended to my father, that I'd take an eaſy, quiet ſaunter over the hill; but 'twas only to have a little more chat with you, do you know that I like you vaſtly?

Roſa.

Oh! ma'am, I cannot think that ſuch an ignorant girl as I, could ſo ſoon obtain the favor of a lady.

Helen.

Have you ever been in Dublin? no! then you have no idea of the elegant delights of plays, ridottos, public breakfaſts, caſtle balls, circular road canters, new garden concerts, and black rock caſſinos! Roſa, you ſhall be my confidante, ha, ha, ha, both papa and mama think me ill, but, dear, I only counterfeited, deceiv'd even the doctors, ſo they ſent me into the country.

Roſa.

But why miſs, did you pretend to be ill?

Helen.

Becauſe, mama, ſo grand! would have me marry a man, only on account of his having come to an immenſe eſtate, by the death of an uncle, and this compulſion has given me a great averſion for him.—I hav'n't yet ſeen him, but have ſet him down in my fancy, as a puppy.

Roſa.
[28]

Aye, but ma'am, ſince thoſe delights of Dublin, are only to be enjoyed by rich gentry, a marriage with this gentleman, procures you pleaſure to your heart's content.

Helen.

True Roſa, but the content of my heart, is to chooſe for myſelf; I never yet was in love, and 'tisn't mama's experience can convince me 'tis ſo charming.

AIR, HELEN
Virgin ſnows the landſcare ſpreading,
Wide, one vacant blank diſplay,
Hidden charms our ſteps o'er treading.
E'er deſcends the ardent ray:
Tender thoughts the maid deſpiſing.
Cold to nature and her laws,
Love's pure genial flame ariſing,
Forth each latent paſſion draws:
Fly my boſom, ſage reflection,
Fill the void, ſome kind affection;
Friendſhip ſmiting,
Time beguiling,
Soothing, cheering,
Life endearing,
Till the lover,
I diſcover;
Who can make me yes repeat,
And my heart, pit, pat, to beat,
Such the ſpark of life to me.
Or my heart be cold and free.
Enter BILLY, in Donnybrook's faſt clothes, large Wig powdered, &c. with a ſlaggon.

my father! Roſa. I muſt be very ill

(apart)

oh! this laſſitude is intolerable! heigh [...]!

pretends to faint, Roſa ſupports her.
Roſa.
(Not looking at him)

Oh, Sir! miſs is ſo ſatigu'd and ſo weak—won't your honor pleaſe to ſit down?

Billy.
[29]

Sir! honor! oh! now ſhe's talking to my garb,

(aſide)

get out of that, you huſſey, how dare you catch ladies in your arms, when I am by?

Roſa.

Why gracious! miſs, it's only Billy O'Rourke.

Helen.
(Starts up)

What an impudent creature! to put me to the trouble of fainting, for nothing, but how came he in papa's clothes?

Roſa.

Billy, isn't this Felix's ruffled ſhirt? where did you get it?

Billy.

Aſk no queſtions, you—miſs I've been ſearching through every room in our houſe, and I didn't find you.

takes a glaſs and trencher from his pocket, ſills.
Helen.

You didn't find me—ſure!

Billy.

So I thought I'd bring this fine glaſs of Goat's milk,

(preſents)

drink it miſs, for the recovery of your conſumption.

Helen.

Here offers a little diverſion,

(aſide)

wasn't it you that handed me out of the coach laſt night? I thought I remember'd it was juſt ſuch a handſome young man.

Billy.

Eh! hem! Roſa, ladies can find I'm a handſome young man—Roſa I know loves me—I'll vex her; miſs, you're a beautiful ſoul.

Helen.

So, I've made a conqueſt here,

(apart)

and pray, is it your way to ſqueeze ladies hands, when you gallant them out of coaches?

Billy.

Did I? I believe I did, I aſk pardon, miſs—ecod I'll throw a ſheep's eye at her.

winks and grimaces.
Roſa.

Billy, you're very rude to ſtand and make faces at the young lady.

Billy.

Ah! ſhe's jealous—go you, and make faces at your fine thief, Felix, through the ſpike holes of the chapel,

(Roſa weeps)

may be now I'm making my fortune, and don't know it—ſhe fainted at ſight of me—I'll court her,

(leers and awkwardly pats her with his hat)

he, he, he! Roſa is ready to die with [30]ſpite,—ſhe'll come and give her a dig with her ſelf, ſars, by and bye.

aſide.
Helen.

How ſhall I keep my countenance?

aſide.
Billy.

It's well miſs hasn't got a cap on her head—ma'am won't you ſwallow the milk? ſtop! I'll ſweeten it with a touch of my own cherry lips;

(drinks it off)

ecod it was ſo nice, it ſlip'd down, before I cou'd whiſtle after it.

Helen.

Well, this is the completeſt love ſcene I ever ſaw, heard, or read of, ha, ha, ha!

aſide.
Roſa.

My poor, unhappy Felix! miſs Helen might make intereſt with her father for him;

(aſide)

madam cou'd I ſpeak a word with you?

Helen.

With pleaſure, my dear,—adieu,—farewell—bye, bye—heigho!

exeunt Helen and Roſa.
Billy.

Well, if this is not being in love with a body, I'm not Billy O'Rourke; what a rare conception for me to put on this apparel—how good of her papa to give me them! that jealous wretch to run away with her. This moment is the nick of my fortune, I wiſh I had ſome friend to conſult.

walks.
Enter SULLIVAN.
Sull.

This ſcoundrel Billy! I ſend him round to the young gentlemen's daddies and mammies, to tell them I could have no ſchool to-day, becauſe of Felix being lock'd up in the chapel;

(ſees Billy, ſtares)

arrah then—is it—Billy O'Rourke! what, put on the 'Squire's clothes! and my new caxen too and be damn'd to you; oh! I ſee it, you've put them on to come courting.

Billy.

You may ſay that.

Sull.

But I'll let Roſa know ſhe's not to take my uſher's time, if ſhe was as pretty as a Yellow-hammer. Come you back home, Billy, and mind your affairs.

ſtretches out his hand.
Billy.
(Shrinking away)

Pho! let my ear alone now, I beſeech you: maſter, there's a great deal of good ſenſe, under your wig.

Sull.
[31]

Why, boy, I have ſenſe to be ſure; were you going to talk about that?

Billy.

Mr. Sullivan, when a man's without a wife, what is he to do?

Sull.

Why, he's to do without a wife.

Billy.

Yes, Sir, but how is he to get one?

Sull.

Court her to be ſure.

Billy.

No occaſion for that—ſhe I've choſen, loves me already.

Sull.

Then are you ſo vain as to ſuppoſe Roſa likes you?

Billy.

Roſa!

(ſnaps his fingers)

miſs Helen Donnybrook.

proudly.
Sull.

What! pho! you conceited fop, be eaſy— eh! but what reaſon have you to think ſhe likes you; Billy, my boy?

Billy.

Can't tell my love ſecrets; honor, honor, honor!

ſtrikes his breaſt.
Sull.

True, nothing like honor, as I ſay, when I carch you at my hen-rooſt, thieving my new laid duck eggs.

Billy.

Damn your ſimilies—miſs Helen Donnybrook.

walks about.
Sull.

Eh! the 'Squire giving him his clothes is ſome ſign of favor. Now if merely to thwart his proud wife's ſcheme of marriage for his daughter, he ſhou'd give her to O'Rourke, and that the young lady herſelf ſhou'd take a fancy to him.—I've heard of grand ladies running away with drummers, and footmen, and councellors, and ſuch ſort of jockies— Billy, I'll give—no I'll lend you my advice; if, when you've ſucceeded, you'll get my leaſe renew'd without a riſe on the farm!

Billy.

Well, Sir, I will.

Sull.

Then my advice is—you'll make me a preſent of a hamper of wine!

Billy.

Yes, yes.

Sull.
[32]

Then Billy, liſten—you'll give me a Cheſhire cheeſe?

Billy.

I will—I will—tell me?

Sull.

Marry her, if you can.

Billy.

You may be ſure on't, and if I get her fortune, put me in mind of the bottle of wine and the pound of Cheſhire cheeſe.

Sull.

Pho! a hamper, and a hundred.

Billy.

Aye, Sir—'twill be a hamper in a hundred.

Bull.

Yonder is her father going to the chapel, to examine Felix, run and propoſe for her, to him.

Billy.

What did ſhe ever do for me, that I ſhou'd do ſuch a fine thing for her?

Sull.

Pſha! go and aſk his conſent—fie! with that little bit of a pot-lead on your head—here's my grand three cock'd beaver, (puts it on) there now, look fierce.

Billy.

She's in the next room, let me ſhew myſelf to her.

Sull.

Talking to the girl before the daddy, is beginning the alphabet at the great A, inſtead of the aperceand. What ſtrange things happen! 'twas but laſt Sunday, Father Murphy ſaid; "Mr. Sullivan," ſaid he ‘that Billy O'Rourke, your uſher, will certainly for his wickedneſs, come to ſome untimely end,’—and here you're going to be married, ha, ha, ha!

Billy.

Ha, ha, ha!

Sull.

We ſhall ſplit our ſides with laughing, when you aſk the father to perform his function, ha, ha, ha!

Billy.

Ha, ha, ha! but here's the 'ſquire—muſt look grave—how is my face?

Sull.

Very grave, how is mine?

Billy.

Quite grave, I'll put on a bold look, will that do?

Bull.

Ay, ay; copper, copper.

SCENE II.—Fields, with a view of the Chapel.

[33]
Enter DONNYBROOK.
Don.

What do they mean by their mail robbing! my letters have been deliver'd me. It's well my wife let's me know this Franklin has an eſtate here, a delicious ſpot for ſhooting,—a good match for Helen,— ſixteen thouſand a year, may have a peerage,—my daughter a counteſs.

Enter SULLIVAN.
Sull.

How do you do Sir? come Billy.

Enter BILLY.
Don.

Eh! who's this?

Billy.

I'm ſo baſhful, damn my ſhame face.

Sull.

Arragh! did you ſay damn? none of your deed and deeds before the gentleman.

Don.

My clothes!

Billy.

Put in a good word, praiſe me.

apart.
Sull.

I will. Sir, this Billy has a fine capacity, and he never ſwears.

Billy.

And Sir, I'm ſo handy.

Don.

Handy indeed! do you think I'll ever wear thoſe clothes again?

Billy.

There,—you ſee he gives them me entirely. 'Squire, if I was even to ſpend all my wife's fortune, I cou'd maintain us both, without her wetting a ſinger.

Sull.

Then Sir, he'd ſend his ten ſmall children to my ſchool.

Don.

And pray what's this to me?

Sull.

Oh! that's very good! the ſchooling of his eighteen ſmall children is nothing to their grandfather; pho! boy, aſk his conſent at once.

Billy.

I will,—hem!—damn my bluſhing face, you aſk him?

Sull.
[34]

I will,—aſk him you.

Don.

What are you about?

Billy.

Sir, I'm about nineteen, and I'm about ſix inches high, and five feet to the back of that, and I intend to be very fat—

Sull.

You're fat enough already, that my cupboard can tell.

Billy.

And I've three months wages due to me.

Sull.

Oh! boy, you muſt never aſk for that!

Don.

Theſe are ſurprizing things! but what's the jeſt? come to the point.

Billy.

Why, Sir, the caſe is,—as I don't think it wou'd be fair for me to run away with your daughter, without—

Don.

Run away with my daughter! eh! how! what's that?

fiercely.
Sull.

Oh, ho! I ſee how the conſent goes—becauſe Sir, this vulgar, low bred ſcoundrel, has had the aſſurance to think you would give him miſs Helen Donnybrook in marriage, and be damn'd to him.

Don.

Curſed ſcoundrel! hark ye, Mr. Sullivan!

exit with ſmothered rage.
Sull.

You go home, and black my boots, and make them ſhine like white marble!

(ſnatches his hat and wig off Billy, puts them on himſelf.)
exit.
Billy.

I'm an impudent ſcoundrel! my twenty little babes ſhall never learn manners from you, old Sullivan. Here a young lady falls in love with a young fellow, merely for his prettyneſs, and I'm to be badger'd by her codger of a father.—I'll be damn'd if I don't have her tho'—this hand that has ſqueez'd a lady's ſinger,—bruſh coats!—no, no, Bob Sullivan, I'll back no more to your mouldy cupboard.—I'll run away with her, or I'll be—oh! here's Redmond O Hanlon, though now the conſtable and the county keeper, yet he was a heart of ſteel, that I'm ſure of.

[35] Enter REDMOND, goes towards the Chapel.
Red.

I'll have Felix out of this, then I'm paid for clapping him up again.

Billy.

Redmond, I've a deſperate wicked buſineſs, and I want you to help me, my good fellow.

Red.

I can't—I'm now going to put irons on Felix.

Billy.

You're a bold and a big man, Redmond O'Hanlon, and a fine thief taker, becauſe you were a thief yourſelf once.

Red.

Yes, I think I'm clever at arreſting a man, or doing him an execution of chattles.

Billy.

Aye, but don't you go ſteal his ducks, that will be over doing it, quack! quack!

Red.

Yes, in Antrim I was a heart of ſteel, in Clonmel I was a white boy.

Billy.

And I'm a tight boy,—now, there's a nice foul I want to ſteal.

Red.

What, a fiſh?

Billy.

No, a lady I want to run away with.

Red.

Lady! I will,—I moſt ſtep home for my hanger, this cuts out more work for me.

Billy.

I thank ye.

exit.
AIR, REDMOND.
When young they call'd me roaring boy,
For blows I took delight in,
My drum I thought a darling toy,
Game chicks I ſet to fighting;
My play was luſty cudgel raps,
When not my gig top laſhing,
The girls I ſet to pulling caps,
My work was Barley threſhing;
The goſſips ſay, ay, they'll be ſworn,
A dreadful night, when I was born,
The moon in clouds, her face did muffle,
The clements were all at ſcuffle;
The brook into a torrent ſwelled,
A rock was ſplit, an oak was foiled;
[36] The neighbours ſcream'd, "the houſes ſhake,"
The Banſhee moan'd, the earth did quake;
A Raven ſung a thunder peal!
For then firſt throbb'd an heart of ſteel.
At ſpeed I ride, it does me good,
If on a horſe that's vicious,
From wrangling Bull, a ſlice my food,
Such beef-ſtake how delicious!
Of all my liquors punch I love,
Sweet contradiction jumble,
With joy the craggy cliffs I rove,
So winds and waters rumble.
The goſſips ſay, ay, they'll be ſworn, &c.
exit.
Enter ROSA and HELEX, followed by FRANKLIN.
Helen.

Come, Roſa, I will never reſt till I have contrived ſome way to relieve your unhappy Felix

they go towards the chapel.
Frank.

Generous girl! the concern ſhe takes for the unfortunate, charms me. But I'll ſee how far it will carry her.

(aſide)

From the curioſity of my boyiſh rambles, I believe I know more of the country, than all its preſent inhabitants.

(aſide)

Roſa, child, you love Felix,—I know he's innocent, yet the event of his trial is uncertain. I think he might eſcape.

Helen.

Innocent, I'll be ſworn he is.

Roſa.

How cou'd he eſcape?

Frank.

There is a way under ground from this very Chapel, to the ruins of the old abbey, about a mile up among the mountains. I believe I remember an old ballad about it

(ſings)

"under the font is a little trap door," &c.

Roſa.

What, the old abbey yonder; dear, I recollect that cave perfectly.

Helen.

Then, Roſa, without telling a ſoul we'll go by ourſelves, and if poſſible, free him.

apart.
Roſa.

Thank you miſs, we will,

(apart)

we thank you pedlar, an I will not forget to reward you.

exeunt.

SCENE III.—Inſide of the Chapel.

[37]
FELIX, diſcover'd ſitting on a form peruſing a letter.
Felix.

This unfortunate letter! I muſt either betray the man that took it for me, or ſuffer in his ſtead.

drops the letter.
AIR, FELIX.
Life is ſure the ocean,
Set in wild commotion,
Or rather ſay, a gallant ſhip, hard ſtruggling croſs the deep;
Now we're ſmoothly failing,
Now rough blaſts prevailing,
And now becalm'd in ſight of land, the winds are rock'd to ſleep.
Whilſt below ſo jolly,
Foes to melancholy,
Sit the jovial laughing crew, around the ſocial bowl;
From the top-maſt ſpying,
Jack aloft ſits crying,
Inyonder flow'ry meadow roves the miſtreſs of my ſoul
All warm his fond fancy,
Preſents his lov'd Nancy,
As reading the letter, laſt ſent by her dear;
Now does ſhe bleſs him,
Cloſe wou'd careſs him,
To her heart preſs him,
Was the rover near.
Hope does but cozen,
"Hoy" bawls the bo'ſen,
From the land we ſteer;
Now we're ſmoothly failing,
Now rough blaſts prevailing,
And now becalm'd the winds are huſh'd, as rock'd to peaceful ſleep.
Life is ſure the ocean,
Set in wild commotion,
Or rather ſay, a gallant ſhip, hard ſtruggling croſs the deep.
Sull.
[38]
(without)

Felix, I command you to keep from the door, whilſt I open it, to ſee whether you're there or no.

Enter SULLIVAN.

Come in Billy, why do you hang behind?

Enter BILLY in his own clothes, frightened.

very odd, this wretch ſo belov'd, that all the country is in tears, and ſobs at his being lock'd up.

locks the door.
Billy.

Maſter, you needn't mind locking the door till we're out.

Sull.

I muſt take care of the two offenders.

Billy.

Two! ſure there's only one.

Sull.

You know Felix, before you did this laſt damnable job of journey work, you loſt your character, by aſſiſting the poor people, and daſhing your money about. Some thought you had found a pot of gold, others ſaid you had ſold yourſelf to the devil; but all were of one mind, that you went out robbing for it.

Felix.

In a very ſhort time I purpos'd making a full and open diſcovery; but as it has now happen'd, find it out how you can.

Sull.

Then ſtay there and be hang'd, you obſtinate, unmannerly blackguard, till a guard of ſoldiers come, with their muzzles ſcrew'd upon their bagnets, to take you to Wicklow jail—then you'll be arraign'd, then the judge will put on his little black cap, you'll be condem'd, the cord will be put round your neck, and off you go ſwinging, Billy O'Rourke.

Billy.

Why, the Lord have mercy upon me, you great big fool! what do you talk to me at all? why don't you turn to Felix?

Sull.

True; Felix, you'll be hang'd in chains, and as I write in my boys copy books, that will learn you wiſdom in the days of your youth!—Eh! what's here?

(picks up the letter)

this is one of the letters [39]Felix took from the bag, it may diſcover ſomething.

aſide and going.
Billy.

Now I'll make off.

runs to the [...].
Sull.

Where are you going?

Billy.

I was not going—only for Mr. Donnybrook to examine Felix.

Sull.
(takes the key from the door)

Oh! he has run to look for his daughter, ſhe and Roſa can neither be found; Redmond O'Hanlon has told the 'Squire, that ſome raſcal attempted to carry her off.

Billy.

Oh lord!

aſide.
Sull.

Billy, 'twasn't you ſure, was it? you deſerv'd only a horſe whipping for your confounded impudence in aſking for her, but the youth that tried to ſteal her away, will ſhuffle out of the world with Felix; but I'll go and read this letter in a corner.

exit.
Billy.
(greatly terrified)

Yes, I ſhall ſwing; a young man gets no good by following the girls, plague choak 'em, choak! Oh! Felix, ſhould you be happy to ſhuffle out of the world in company? I don't mean my company—I never did any thing to deſerve ſuch treatment,

(turns)

gone! why old Sullivan has lock'd me in too, what have I done? I didn't do any thing—I never did nothing—Felix, I'd get you out if I cou'd—I wiſh I cou'd get you out, becauſe then I cou'd get myſelf out—Felix, you ſhou'd try to get out—it's a great ſin to die whilſt we're alive.

Felix.

True; death conſtantly purſues and muſt overtake us, yet we ſhou'd keep our onward way, and not turn to meet him. This ſimpleton's but ſad comfort for the hour of ſorrow.

goes in.
Billy.

Is this door?—no, double lock'd.

(knocks)

Felix gone to ſit in the veſtry, I won't ſtay in this diſmal place by myſelf.

going.
Helen.

Felix!

ſings.
Billy.

What's that?

Helen.
[40]

Felix!

Billy.

This is ſurely old harry calling this wicked fellow to him.

AIR, HELEN.
Where now thou art is the path to heaven,
Yet ſinner, in the world if thou'dſt longer ſtay,
To thy own choice is the power given,
I am the perſon that can point the way.
Under the font is a tiny trap door,
Opening to a paſſage under the floor,
Darkly winding to the ragged pile,
That crumbles down the mountain hence one mile.
Billy.

An under ground paſſage from this chapel to the mountains; what, that opens at the old abbey! huzza! huzza! thank ye, ſweet little cricket, whoever you are. It's a fine lonely place, I can get off to Dublin without coming into Arklow again;

(ſeeks and finds trap)

ecod! here it is—Felix! Felix! hold, if I take him with me, I ſhall be hang'd for his reſcue. No, no, to ſave going up, I'll go down.

Re-enter SULLIVAN, with letter.

not gone!

ſhuts it haſtily.
Sull.

Whoever wrote this letter, didn't learn in my ſchool-hand, it's a crow's claw; but I muſt read it to prepare proofs before Mr. Donnybrook comes.

Billy.

Mr. Donnybrook coming! then I'm gone for certain!

frightened.
Sull.

Billy, where's that pair of ſpectacles Felix bought for me?

Billy.

Yes Sir, I'll go home for them Sir,

(joyful)

open the door Sir.

Sullivan goes towards the door.

This will be better than eſcaping under the ground I don't know where.

Sull.
(putting the key up)

No, Billy, ſtay here, w [...] ſhall want you to write his confeſſion.

Billy.
[41]

Ay, I ſhall be ſent to jail with Felix.

(terrified)

Hell! death! and fury! let me out.

very violent.
Sull.

Why Billy, what do you curſe and ſwear ſo for in the chapel? you're grown ſuch a reprobate, I ſhou'dn't wonder if the ground was to open and ſwallow you up alive!

Billy.

Oh, ho!

(ſignificantly) (goes to the trap, opens it, and returns unperceived)

Lord! what's that?

looking at the trap, and pretending terror.
Sull.

What's, what!

Billy.

A great hole in the earth, bleſs me!

Sull.
(terrified)

Ah! too late to bleſs yourſelf now.

Billy.

What's the matter with my feet? ſomething pulling them, oh! help, help.

groans.
Sull.

Be quiet—father Murphy told me this wou'd be your end; Billy have ſome regard to the ſchool where you were uſher, go quietly, don't let them be ſending fire and brimſtone up here for you.

Billy.

Oh Sir! maſter! hold me! oh! they'll have me down—oh, help! help!

groans.
Sull.

I won't lay a finger upon you, the horrid vengeance that awaits you, may communicate like electricity—I am ſo frighten'd, I'll ſit down, I ſhall faint, oh for a pitcher of water to throw over me!

(exit.)
noiſe without.
Enter FELIX.
REDMOND and Country People, break open the door.
CHORUS.
At the hazard of our lives,
Cattle, cabins, babes and wives,
Generous Felix blythe and free,
Again ſhall rove the hills and merrily.
Felix.
No more I'll violate my country's laws.
Shame and death to chooſe, how vain,
Chorus.
And blot thy life with ſuch a ſtain.
At the hazard of, &c.
exeunt.

SCENE IV.—A Road.

[42]
Enter SULLIVAN, with ſpectacles on, a letter in his hand.
Sull.

Billy's untimely ſate has ſo ſtupified me, that I forgot all concerns for this other rogue. I thought that by the hurly burly at the chapel door, Lucifer was come for him too—now this letter—why it's from his old nurſe,

(reads)

‘your loving nurſe, Margaret Fagan.’ What, 'tis all about his worſted ſtockings?

ſhouts and clamours without.
Enter REDMOND, haſtily.
Red.

Sir, here's Mr. Franklin, the lord of the manor, juſt arrived, and has had Felix put in irons; but he, out of thanks to the people for reſcuing him, has told them of his finding a Gold Mine in Croghan Mountain, ſo all is now out, how he came by the caſh.

ſhouts.
Enter Men, Women and Children, with ſpades, ſhovels, and divers implements, very noiſy,
Sull.

Hey! hey! now where are you all running?

1ſt. Man.

Sure we're going to the Gold Mine.

Sull.

The ſurprize has taken away my breath,— Felix found a Gold Mine! oh! the moſt damnable villain, to keep ſuch a ſecret to himſelf, juſt as a bear wou'd a bee's neſt; I wiſh I found it, I wou'dn't have let a foul know, but now I'll find it, and refine it, and double refine it, and ſuper-refine it.

2d. Man.

Come neighbours.

Sull.

Hold! a'n't I a learned man, hav'n't I read big books of chymiſtry, all about tranſmutation, diſtillation, ſublimation, calcination, evaporation, volatilization, exhalation, dephlequation, concentration, [43]rectification, ſaturation, chryſtalization, precipitation, conflagration and botheration.

1ſt. Boy.

Is this Gold Mine under the ground, or over the ground?

Sull

Very probably.—Now ſtand on this ſide of me, for I am deaf in this ear, and you can't underſtand what. I ſay to you—now one word I've to ſay to you all, liſten to me, ſtart fair.

Air, SULLIVAN.
About this ſame Gold Mine, I've one word to ſay,
The caſe I'll explain, by ſcience moſt clear,
Bad luck to you all, one moment here ſtay,
And if you would hear,
Your mouths open wide,
Stand on my right ſide,
Becauſe I'm quite bother'd ſo, in this left ear.
In troth Mr. Ryan,
I wiſh you'd ſtand back,
And Mrs. O'Brien,
Have done with your clack,
And Jemmy O'Rooney, Sir, pray lend me your ſack.
To be ſpoken

.—Whilſt I explain—tranſmutation, diſtillation, ſublimation, calcination, evaporation, volatilization, exhalation, dephlequation, concentration, rectification, ſaturation, chryſtalization, precipitation, conflagration, and botheration.

Ah! now arragh!
Don't touch that wheel barrow;
And neighbours I begs,
You'll keep quiet your legs.
One word I'll ſing, ſo now take care,
And that ſweet word is, all ſtart fair.
exit, with the wheel-barrow.

SCENE the laſt.

[44]
Croghan Mountains, ruins of an Abbey.
Enter DONNYBROOK, and ROSA crying, he with a fowling-piece.
Don.

I'll not part with you huſſey, till you tell me where's my daughter; Helen was ſeen with you.

Roſa.

Nay Sir, don't be angry—miſs—is—is—

Enter HELEN at an aperture, cover'd with ſtones and brambles.
Helen.
(ſpeaks at the entrance)

Come out my ſine little boy.

Don.

My daughter in a hole with a fine little boy!

Helen.

My father!

(aſide)

now Sir, don't give the poor fellow up again.

Roſa.

Oh! Sir, ſave my Felix!

kneels.
Enter BILLY, from the opening.
Billy.

Here I am my ſweet little cricket, oh! lord!

ſeeing Donnybrook.
Helen.

What, is it you, you wretch?

Don.

Come again from old nick; but I'll ſend you back to him, you dam'd,—

preſents at Billy, who falls on his knees.
Billy.

Oh! mercy!

Enter FRANKLIN, haſtily, in his own clothes.
Frank.

Hold, Sir—don't let's have murder too.

Don.

He has ſtole my game, my coat and my girl!

(to Helen)

quit your mother's choice, (the pink of fine gentlemen,) for this dam'd lump of a munſter potatoe.

Billy.

I'm neither a potatoe nor a turnip, old cabbage head.

Frank.
[45]
(ſpeaking off)

Bring the culprit this way.

Enter FELIX, iron'd, REDMOND and PEOPLE.

Convey him immediately to Wicklow; but my lad, you're very young, you muſt have had ſome experienc'd accomplice;

(turns to Redmond)

you mentioned a perſon, a kind of pedlar, that was ſeen loitering, come confeſs,

(to Felix)

was not that beggerman your confederate?

Don.

Yes, that raſcally old thief did it all.

Frank.

Give him up, and by my honor I not only promiſe you a pardon, but a high reward for your diſcovery of a Gold Mine on my eſtate.

Felix.

Sir, if I die for it, my word to the laſt: the crime was all my own.

Billy.

His laſt ſpeech and true dying words.

Red.

I ſay all the miſchief was done by that curs'd rogue, the pedlar.

Billy.

Ay 'Squire, 'twas he that ſet me on to affront miſs Helen, he told me himſelf that he ſtole two ponies, four cows, a lamb and a finger poſt.

Roſa.

He's a very good creature.

Helen.

A brave old fellow.

1ſt. Man.

I wiſh we could catch the dam'd rogue.

Frank.

Silence!

ſings.
A farden! a farden! my fortune much decay'd is,
Of all the hands outſtretch'd to me,
Oh! bleſſings on the ladies.
Addreſſing all around, they affect extreme ſurprize.

Then Felix, you poſſitively will not hang me? your hand—do you forget your old companion, maſter Tom Franklin, who was nurs'd with you in you very cabin. I myſelf brought you that letter from Doblin, and made the boy tell the ſham ſtory of the mail robbery—my diſguiſe and ſtratagem have prov'd, that your generoſity and gratitude, are ſuperior [46]to, even the concern for your life; and madam,

(to Helen)

your humane efforts to ſave a life ſo valuable, have acted more powerfully on my heart, than all I had before felt from the force of your charms.

Don.

Ha, ha, ha! Helen, this is Mr. Franklin, your mother's choice.

Helen.

Indeed! then Sir, your protection was but ſelfiſh—if I'm worth having—

Felix.

I recollect you Sir, you are indeed the good natur'd young gentleman that, when we were children, honor'd me with his friendſhip.

Roſa.

My dear Felix, can you forgive me.

Felix.

My innocent Roſa, had I been the villain you ſuppos'd me, your conduct diſplay'd but the purity of your heart.

Enter SULLIVAN with a ſack, followed by country people.
Sull.

Stay away all of you with your pans and pails, until your betters are ſerv'd. Billy! oh, then, king Plutus has ſent you up with this cargo of golden curſes; not a thumb upon the Gold, until I have fill'd my barley ſacks.

Frank.

Hold, Sir, as lord of the manor. I ſhall preſume to lay a finger upon it: but, my lovely Helen, is the angel of the Mine, and it's all at her diſpoſal; Felix has given the example, who not only diſcover'd the Gold Mine, but the far more valuable ſecret of putting Gold to its nobleſt uſe, deeds of benevolence.

[47]
FINALE.
Frank.
Hence care and ſtrife! nor damp our joy,
Come friendſhip, mirth and love,
And every ſordid, baſe alloy,
Let's from our boſom move;
For was our gold, but Iriſh braſs,
Good humour's ſtamp can make it paſs;
With a ſa, la, la, &c.
Felix.
To London town our Iriſh wags,
A fortune hunting run,
And then with heaps of ſhining bags,
Their paltry ſouls are won.
Helen and Roſa.
If love cou'd e'er unite with gain,
Here, lads, come find our golden vein.
With a ſa, la, la, &c.
Billy.
I've learnt the letters in my book,
By poſt you've letters ſent,
But till of late, you're ſuch a rook,
You knew not what they meant.
Sull.
All letters nonſenſe are to me,
But letters call'd G, O, L, D.
With a ſa, la, la, &c.
Chorus.
Hence, care and ſtrife! &c.
FINIS.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3494 The Wicklow mountains or the lad of the hills a comic opera in two acts Written by O Keeffe. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5844-5